Inconcessus Esurio
by Starbby
Summary: While at the library, doing a favor that Ron has somehow persuaded her into, Ginny runs into an unexpected enemy and things take a drastic turn, but for the better or worse, she doesn't know. Rated M for mature content.
1. Innocence GPOV

**A/N: Yay, first chapter! I've been wanting to do this plot for a while. Basically, Ron thinks he knocked up Hermione and pleads Ginny to go to some research at the library. She does, and while she's there, she runs into an unpleasant enemy; Draco Malfoy thinks she's done this because she's been with Harry, and threatens to tell the whole school if she doesn't comply to his demands. Then things go from there, as you'll see later on. ;D This'll be a two-shot with each chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter books, nor do I own JK Rowling, Ginny Weasly, or Draco Malfoy(though I wish I did). This plot isn't mine; my friend Jess created it and I decided to make it into a fanfiction. Ummm, I think that's all. Enjoy. (:**

**P.S. The title means Forbidden Desire in latin. I used latin because I'm pretty sure thats the language JK Rowling uses to name her spells and such. Also note that I'm REALLY bad at editing, and I never look at the screen or keyboard while I type because I'm too busy conjuring the scene in my head, so I probably have a kajillion typos in here. Sorry about that. ;D Okay, NOW enjoy the story. xD**

* * *

**Chaper 1: Innocence**

* * *

"**No**, Ronald_."_ My voice was direct and clear, with a thick layer of authority coating it. And despite that, Ron was herding me. I stepped back, one foot behind the other, though I didn't need to ask where he was trying to lead me. The library, of course. I glowered at his pleading expression.

"_Please_, Ginny! Please, I really don't want to go in there alone. Honestly, I don't want to go in there at all." He grumbled, his many freckles shifting as he creased his forehead. I shook my head furiously, folding my arms over my chest.

"Don't muggles have these sorts of things?" I asked scathingly, my eyes narrowing.

"Hermione's too nervous to ask her parents, much less mine." He informed me, and I turned scarlet and looked away. I didn't even want to think of Mum and Dad's reaction if they found out Ron and Hermione were…

"Get Hermione to do it, Ron! She's a thousand times quicker and brighter than me, anyways." I snapped, stating the obvious truth.

"Ginny, if Hermione does it, then the librarian will _know_ it was her. You're a perfectly innocent alibi." He explained, following my movements by crossing his own arms. Neither of us was giving in so easily, it seemed. How was it that Ron had a counter for every one of my reasons? Had he planned this conversation in his head or what? It took me three seconds to figure that out. No, he wasn't smart enough for that. Hermione was. My gaze flickered over him, almost expecting him to pull out a piece of parchment; apparently Hermione _hadn't_ written him a script. Oh well, I still knew she had something to do with Ron's sudden brightness. I opened my mouth, searching my brain for a retort, but before I could think of something clever and plausible to use, my back hit the door of the library. I let out a shocked squeak, and then grimaced. I was wrong. One of us _was_ giving in easily. He seemed to realize his victory, because he grinned and pecked me quickly on the cheek. I rolled my eyes.

"You could have thought of this before you decided to go all 'home run' on Hermione, you know." I insulted, hoping the words would sting him at least a _little. _I was hardly shocked when his smile remained, unfaltering.

"Thanks, Ginny. I owe you."

"I'll hold you to that."

He strode off, chuckling slightly and probably giddy with triumph. Ron was so easy to please sometimes. And so easy to be persuaded by. I scowled at his retreating figure, then whirled around and threw the doors open, muttering a string of profanities quietly under my breath as the vulture-like old woman looked up from behind the desk. Well that ruined my plan. I didn't want her to have seen me, and now she was more than likely going to go poking through my books the moment I settled. I did not want the old bat to think that I was researching a pregnancy test potion for my_self_. I tried not to think of the horror if that were the case. Grimacing, I sauntered as casually as I was able around the isles, pretending to be interested in things that were _far_ off of my desired subject. Well, not so much desired as forced. I reminded myself to think of something excruciating and slow to put Ron through as a payback to me. When I could no longer feel beady black eyes boring into my back, I turned slowly, picking out a thick, leather-bound book and pretending to flip through it—I was actually gazing at her from the corner of my eye.

After a few moments, she stood, holding a file of papers in her hand, and bustled off to a secret passageway behind the desk. I wasn't in the least bit surprised—Hogwarts was full of too many bloody hidden entrances—but I made another mental note, to ask George and Fred is they already knew about that particular one, and then replaced the book on the shelf. Then, taking advantage of my time, I hurried over to the potions section and began piling books into my arms. It took me four rounds to get all of the books that had even the slightest relevance to pregnancy, and when I was done there was a fort around my table. I sat sloppily, not bothering to tuck my ruffled black skirt under me as I plopped down cross legged behind my little wall of books. I tugged my white sleeves back, rolled my hair into a messy ponytail, and pulled out the first book. The sun that slanted through the high, arched windows taunted me, and only made my mood sourer. Why was Ron so damn selfish? I was a fifth-year, and he still treated me like a child! Several times through my search I thought about abandoning the idea completely; the pile of discarded books at my feet only grew, and discouraged my hopes more. And then I forced myself to think of Hermione—_not _Ron—and I knew she really and truly needed this from me, as a friend. Sighing, I tossed the eighteenth unsuccessful book aside and tugged another one out, exhaustedly now. The few notes on the parchment beside me were feeble, and I had a feeling this would be going on for quite a while. While I was ranting, I heard a door open and figured the librarian had come back, but didn't worry; all of my books were easily innocent potions books, and all I would have to do if she rounded the corner was stuff the piece of parchment into my pocket. Besides, I felt safe here in my little box of dusty books.

Grumbling quiet curses at Ronald to myself, I began flipping through the pages of the book beside me at light speed, my eyes scanning the name of the potion before I moved on. No Pregnancy test potions. I sighed, and tossed the book into the pile with the others. Three books later and halfway through, the miracle fell into my view. I jumped up, suddenly extremely pleased with myself. The potion looked old but simple; I scribbled it down quickly and sloppily, and then began to gather my things. I did not see his pale hand swipe out, swiftly taking my piece of parchment and glancing at it with bored gray eyes. My breath rushed from me as I looked up at him. _Crap, crap, crap. Damn it all. _A million curses flew through my mind in that one second that it took for his to scan the title on my parchment. Obviously, he didn't need to read more except for the few words I had written untidily at the top of the potion: Pregnancy Test.

When his piercing eyes met mine, I felt the heat rush across my face, and I was certain that my cheeks matched my hair. He only grinned, an amused and playful sort of expression that was much different from his usual sneer. I think I was about to hyperventilate. Angrily and embarrassedly, I snatched the paper from his hands and reached behind me to slam the open book shut. I rolled the parchment while I waited for his snide comment, stuffing it in the pocket of my school robes—which were lying on the chair beside him—then made a reach for my wand. His hand was too fast again, and I was caught off guard by the sudden closeness of his face next to mine. His slender fingers wrapped around my wrist to pull it away from my robes, and he pressed me against the table; my wand clattered to the floor and my eyes widened slightly. I caught the expression in his eyes before he composed himself and sneered—my initial anger returned the moment that his normal behavior toward me had returned.

"So, Ginevra Weasly and Harry Potter, huh?" He said, his blonde eyebrows lifting very slightly upwards. Usually, I hated it when people called me by my full first name, but in his silky tone—where was his oily, snide voice?!—it sent a shiver from my scalp down my spine. He smirked, closing his eyes momentarily.

"Go away, Draco, it's none of your business." Woah, when had I started calling him by _his_ first name? It was just a slip-up; my mind was currently preoccupied with trying to think of a plausible reason to explain the current situation. His warm breath on my face snapped me out of my thoughts, and my heart stuttered frantically. He snorted at my attempt at anger and toughness.

"You're a poor liar."

"Who said I was lying?"

"I did." When he spoke those two words, they were velvet and deadly—and made my stuttering heart break into a frantic gallop.

"Go away, Draco." I repeated, my voice no more than a breathless gasp. To my utter surprise, he complied. His body slid deftly away from mine, and he took a few steps back. I realized with a jolt that his was twirling my wand in between his fingers. When had that happened? I couldn't find and coherent thoughts. He waited patiently, until my heart slowed and my breathing returned to normal. I felt the flush of anger cross my face again. He sneered.

"So I was thinking, this is a pretty funny story to tell the Slytherins, huh?" He said, gazing at my wand intently.

"You wouldn't." I hissed through my teeth, the breathtaking moment that had just happened all but forgotten.

"I wonder what your brothers would say. I take it he doesn't know." He commented, still watching my wand blur between his slender fingers.

"Don't you dare."

"Mmm. Why shouldn't I?" I didn't respond, my face blank as I stared at his unfathomable expression.

"I have an idea. How about you spend the rest of the day thinking about it, and come dusk, you can meet me back here and provide me with a suggestion that you think I might…" He paused, his unfathomable expression becoming sly. "Appeal to." I lost my breath again; his eyes had gone fierce again and he was suddenly very close again. My mind whirred. He took my right hand—which for some reason was balled into a fist—and gently unfurled it and pressed my wand to my palm. He was too close, much, much too close, for me to argue.

"Okay." I stammered, unsure of what I was really agreeing to at the time.

His grin made my heart jump. "Good." He purred, lifting his hand to brush it gently against my collar bone. My face turned red again, but this time it wasn't from anger or embarrassment. I stood immobile as he turned around and walked away from me, out of the doors and out of sight. What the bloody hell had just happened?


	2. Seduction DPOV

**A/N: Second chapter! Still no real editing other than whatever Microsoft Word had decided to do to my document. Uhm... Yeah, Draco's POV. He's pretty stressed out about having to do all that stuff for Voldy. (This takes place during H-BP.) So yeah, he's pretty angsty. 'Nd BTW, in case you were wondering, the searing in his arm was the Dark Mark burning for him to fight back, and the thing in his eyes that scared everyone half-to death will be kinda/sorta revealed later. -nodnod- And no, Chapter 1 is not a typo. This is the same chapter, but from a diff. pov. Basically, they each have their own 'books'. Anywaysss. Enjoy now, plzkthx.**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Seduction**

* * *

I'd spent my share of valuable time doing nothing all too interesting. My morning was spent in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking of the pressure that had been put on me so recently. I was much more stressed that your average wizard; and it was entirely my father's fault. There were the small things, of course. Like sending me a ridiculous puffy dress gown that looked like something the Weasley's would wear—luckily my mom sent me something much more suited to my taste later on—or allowing Pansy Parkinson the hopes that her and I had any sort of spark between us, and sometimes I was angry at him for making me obey Snape when I truly didn't want to; but those were all small things and could be easily forgiven and forgotten. Then there was promising my services to the Dark Lord without my will or consent at all—that was something that was neither forgiven nor forgotten (granted I survived long enough to remember). After I was branded, there was no betraying the forced commitment that I must have towards him; I was nothing more than a pawn in this eternal game of Death and Power. My father was the knight, and I was the pawn—easily disposable and not too missed when I was claimed. I knew my place, and I knew I would not come out of this alive.

The Room of Requirement had been the next stop on my journey; after I'd gotten sick of my bed I had stood and begun wandering aimlessly. I sat before the cupboard for thirty minutes, hitting it with every repairing spell I knew until I grew tired of the near darkness and fled. Crabbe, Goyle and (to my intense displeasure) Pansy joined me after breakfast, and only Pansy had even the slightest attempt at having conversation with me. As always, I ignored her most of the time and only supplied her with small nods of shakes of my head. I spent the afternoon lying lazily at the shore of the lake, comfortable on the grass while I traced random patterns in the air with a stream of smoke that my wand was emitting. Pansy insisted I lay my head on her lap so I wouldn't 'dirty my brilliant sun-kissed locks' and I was too exhausted to comply. I openly welcomed the warmth of the blaring sun; it felt soothing against my pale skin and helped me escape my thoughts. And I had to admit, though I'd never tell Pansy this, her lap was soft and the feel of her hands running through my hair was relaxing. Crabbe and Goyle had gone off to shoot curses at the creatures dwelling just under the lakes surface, and Pansy was finally silent. I was in bliss for a short time in what felt like forever. Of course, Pansy had to ruin _that._

"Draco, what have you been up to?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You look so tired and sick lately."

I froze. Did I really? Had my sleepless nights trying to get the damned cupboard to work begun showing? I realized it had been over a month since I'd last seen myself in a mirror. I'd just had more occupying things on my mind. I took a steadying breath, and then raised my eyebrows, knowing she would see.

"Pansy, I honestly dunno what you're talking about." I said innocently, and she scowled.

"Draco, I _know_ that there's something going on with you! So just tell me already!" She snapped irritably, her hands curling into fists in my hair. I winced against the stinging as she yanked at my scalp and sat me up to face her. I glowered at her as best as I could muster.

"Pansy, you don't know what you're saying. Just stop now, because you don't know anything about me, alright?" My temper was growing, and I tightened my hand around my wand, my mind already shifting through a hundred curses; I felt the electric current jolt through my arm as I prepared to use magic. She saw this, and immediately unwound her hands from my hair and backed away, eyes blank. I glared for a few more minutes, and then dropped my arm.

"_Rictusempra_!"

I had not seen her draw her wand, I only saw the flash of golden light before I was flying backwards, my body twisting uncomfortable as I rose, higher and higher, then came tumbling back. I slammed against the grass, pain slicing up my back and my lungs getting flattened against my chest. A searing in my right arm had me sitting up, my wand pointed at Pansy. I don't know what she saw, but her face was suddenly terrified. Stupid girl, she would regret lashing her magic against me.

"_Crucio_." I hissed, tasting blood in my mouth. She shrieked and fell to the floor, writhing in pain. Crabbe and Goyle whirled around and stared at me, horror on their faces. I turned my gaze to them, and they shrunk back. Several students had frozen where they stood, turning to look at me. I snapped my arm back—Pansy's screaming ceased—and stormed away. My mind was whirring as I flew quickly down the corridors, anger blinding me as I let my feet lead. After an hour of thoughtless wandering, I found myself approaching the library. Of all my six years in this bloody school, I don't think I've ever been in the library more than twice. And I was sure that neither of the times had been for educational purposes. Now I had a million and two things that I wanted to know, the most important one being of the Room of Requirement. So naturally, I entered. The first thing I saw was the vast emptiness. Was anybody in here? I stepped further in, and the shelves were what shocked me next. Hundreds upon hundreds of shelves, ordered into neat little rows. There were probably millions of books in here, I realized with an internal groan. Great, I had no clue how to navigate them. My attention was brought to the very faint sound of paper being shifted, and my eyes instantly zeroed in on the noise. Someone was buried behind a great tower of books. My eyes grew wider, threatening to pop right out of my head at the quantity of those books. Surely someone like that would _have_ to know how to maneuver through this maze of books. Cautiously, I stepped toward the stack, my wand held securely in my hand in case it turned out to be someone unpleasant like Potter, or Granger or…Weasley? Instantly I pointed my wand at her, and then hesitated, a jolt jumping through me. She was standing, and leaning over the table, writing on a piece of parchment; and her skirt was riding far too high above her thighs to be fair. This was the youngest Weasley? I found that hard to believe. She was too… appealing to be a fifth year. She straightened, and I caught a glimpse of her scribbled writing on a parchment. Interested, I reached out and swiftly slid the notes away from her, tucking my wand inside of my robes. The first three words were all I needed to see: Pregnancy Test Potion. Well, well, well. Somebody had been naughty, hadn't they? What, a slip up with Potter? I smirked, my eyes moving up to hers, watching as a tempting color of crimson spread over her cheeks. I allowed her to take it back, letting my eyes travel swiftly over her as she reached for her robes. Appealing, yes indeed. Now don't get the wrong idea; I've had my share of fun with women, but I've never _ever_ allowed emotional attachments. Ginny Weasley would be no exception to this rule. I saw what she was grabbing for, and my hand flashed out to form a manacle around her wrist. I pulled it away and shoved her roughly against the table. Her eyes widened and her fingers went limp in my grasp, her wand clattering towards the floor. Hmmm, so my initial thoughts had been wrong. She was too innocent to need the potion for herself. I would have to corrupt that innocence. I wasn't sure whether she caught the hungry gleam in my eye before I composed my expression into a sneer, pleased as her anger returned and she struggled under me. Slightly distracted with the movement her body was making against mine, I let the first words that came to my mind slip out.

"So, Ginevra Weasley with Harry Potter, huh?" My eyebrows rose in shock—when had I learned her full first name? She shivered slightly, and though the motion was familiar with me, I smirked.

"Go away, Draco, it's none of your business." That sounded like a _no_ to me. Her voice was far too shaky to be frightening. I exhaled softly, and snorted. Jesus, this girl was a hopeless liar.

"You're a poor liar." I commented, my grin smug. I saw the second of hesitation in her eyes, before they hardened into fury.

"Who said I was lying?" I knew she wasn't, actually, but I certainly wasn't going to tell her that. The fun was just beginning. Instead, I moved my face closer, until our noses were almost touching.

"I did." I said, coating my voice with a velvet seduction and felt a twinge of satisfaction as her pulse hammered against her wrist.

"Go away, Draco." He voice was so weak, so breathless, that I almost felt pity for her. She made this so simple for me that it was pathetic. So instead of claiming her there, I pulled away from her, lifted her wand from the floor while she was still trying to catch her breath. I saw the shock flit onto her face as she saw me twirling it in between my fingers. When that glare of contempt returned to her features, I sneered.

"So I was thinking, this is a pretty funny story to tell the Slytherins, huh?" I said in a mild tone, examining her wand like it was some phenomena. I shot a small glance towards her and saw the disbelieving rage cross her face.

"You wouldn't." She hissed, and I rolled my eyes. She was just like a small defenseless kitten trying to growl like a tiger. Gryffindor? Pfft.

"I wonder what your brothers would say. I take it they don't know." I continued, acting as if I'd never heard her. My face was thoughtful with empty threats—I expected to have my way. Of course, if I didn't, I might actually have to go by my word.

"Don't you dare." Her weak protesting brought me out of my reverie and I knew I wouldn't have to consider the alternative. She was already breaking.

"Mmm. Why shouldn't I?" I stopped twirling the wand, my foot sliding slightly towards her. She opened her mouth, then closed it abruptly, her expression blank. She had no retort, and I knew I had already won. She was putty in my capable hands.

"I have an idea. How about you spend the rest of the day thinking about it, and come dusk, you can meet me back here and provide me with a suggestion that you think I might…" I paused, my grinning cleverly. "Appeal to." I closed the space between us, my gaze scorching into hers. She stopped breathing, and I was close enough to see her pupils dilate. I took her hand, amused that it was curled tightly into a fist—Was she planning to punch me?—unwound it, and lay her wand on it. Her eyes clouded and I smirked. Complete putty.

"Okay." She breathed, her voice sounding confused and distorted. I wondered if she even remembered the conversation we'd just had. I held back a chuckle. Seduction was so _easy_.

"Good." My voice was a low, throaty purr, and I could almost hear her heart thundering against her ribcage as I lifted my hand to brush it carefully across the skin just above her chest. Her face went scarlet, and her eyes glazed over completely. I grinned, turned, and walked away from her, out of the door. The cold and clear air outside popped the bubble that had swelled around me and Ginny, and I instantly felt the rest of my worries pressing down on me. I knew I would not apologize to Pansy. I didn't need her. Not when Ginny belonged to me.


End file.
